Is That A Complement Or An Insult?
by death mega sega
Summary: A oneshot of Geoffrey and his son, Ian, that I randomly wrote based off of something that happened between me and my sister. Please R&R


_**Is That a Complement or an Insult?**_

_**2/16/2012 7:22pm Deathy:**_ this funny idea just occurred to me. Please forgive the shortness.

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Geoffrey St. John was filing paper. That's all there seemed to be to do around the Republic of Acorn. Paper work. Oh how the commander of the Secret Service hated it! Sitting beside him on the floor was a small boy. He was on his stomach coloring in a little sketchbook that Elias had given him a few moments earlier. The king had finally grown tired of constantly seeing stray lines of crayon all over the place. Geoffrey tried to watch the small child like a hawk, however, his darling bundle of joy always found a way around him. The skunk would turn his head for less than a second and when he would turn back, the small child had somehow found some sort of writing utensil and was coloring on something. So far, Geoffrey had noted that his son's favorite objects to color on were:

Walls of any kind,

His old cross bow,

His shoes,

His gloves,

His beret,

His and his wife's bandanna,

The chairs in the counsel room,

Elias' front door,

The globe posts at the lab,

Anything he owned,

And most importantly, Geoffrey, himself!

This kid was a nut job. A good looking, near spitting image of himself save for the curly hair nut job, but a nut job all the same. Luckily, Geoffrey had bought himself a quiet – sane – moment to do some of this over whelming paper work, which he had recently pronounced to be the torture to end all tortures.

Just then, the small boy sat up. He crossed his arms as he glared at the picture. It didn't look right to him. He looked up at his father. All calm and cool and a bit in need of a giant jug of coffee from his 24/7 spree of childish antics. He was so bored. He finally stood up and put his hands behind his back as to stand like a perfect little soldier. "HEY YOU!" The boy screamed boisterously at his unsuspecting father. The skunk jolted as the pen went through the paper he was currently filling out and stabbing his other hand.

"W'at?" He asked, as he tried not to cry at the pain of a pen in his hand.

"Nothing. That's why I'm talking to you." The small boy answered.

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow at this. Should he take that as an insult or a complement? He wasn't exactly sure. He removed the pen from his hand and placed it in a small unused coffee cup that used to be his father's. "Is t'at supposed to tell me t'at you don't like talking to me or do like talking to me? I can't decide."

The small boy shrugged. "I'm bored. What are you doing?"

"Being sentenced to torture Ian." Geoffrey replied simply as he pushed himself back away from the desk.

"Am I torture?" Ian asked with a small pout.

"No, Ian." Geoffrey responded as he patted his young son on the head. "You're not. T'is bloody paper work is!" He hissed at the mountain of paper on his desk.

Ian looked at it and tilted his little head. His curly white hair bobbed his each movement. "I know!" He hopped up and clapped his hands happily. He raced up to the desk, opened a drawer and grabbed a stamp out of it with a small container of red ink. "We use this!" He smiled as he crawled into his father's lap. Intrigued, Geoffrey looked at it.

"Redirect." The skunk read. He smirked. His son was very bright for his age. Why hadn't he thought of this three hours ago!

"That do, fat'er?" the boy asked, hoping for praise. The British accent coming out.

"Yes Ian!" Geoffrey rustled his son's hair. "I t'ink it will for today. And just in time! I need to see t'e doctor about t'is new hole you've added to my 'and!" He spoke jokingly.

"Actually fat'er you put the hole in your hand. Not me." Ian stated simply. He wasn't going to be blamed for his father's lack of safety with sharp pointed pens.

Geoffrey stamped each document and took his son, and the coloring book for safe measure, to the local hospital to see Doctor Cream Prower.

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_**7:51 pm 2/16/2012 Deathy:**_ CassyG just randomly texted me, 'Hey you!' When I asked what was up, she told me 'Nothing. That's why I'm texting you.' This seriously happened right before I began writing. And now I'm trying to figure out how she can find one of my shoes and not the other. I mean, I'm pretty sure I left her house with both of my shoes. So yeah. Odd moments with me equals this cute fanfic for everyone. For those of you who don't know, Ian Armand St. John is a FC [fan character] of mine that I used in Unsure of Title. He's Geoffrey's and Hershey's first child. He's very fun to write for. Now, if I can only post this! Please READ & REVIEW!


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